States & Ladders
by Ondra J
Summary: Dean Ambrose was one star among others who seemed like a distant memory, when remembering the show of shows. When a certain someone meets in the locker room, will he be able to shed the pent-up anguish? Happy B'day John! SLASH!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Dean Ambrose was one star among others who seemed like a distant memory, when remembering the show of shows. When a certain someone meets in the locker room, will he be able to shed the pent-up anguish?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own WWE superstars, divas or anyone or anything else except the plot.**

**It was John Cena's B'day! Yay! HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOHN!**

**P.S. I know this is late, and I'm truly sorry. It's a two or three part story. The leading chapter is dedicated to John Cena and the second will be to Wrestlemania and my fantatsic viewers.**

**Special Mention to Emily, the 51st reviewer of my stories. You go, girl.**

**Oh, I've written the second Chapter already. If John wins against Rusev, I post it on the 26th. If not, I'll need time to see if they put him up for a good feud on RAW. :)**

Many wrestlers had their demons put to a rest, but several others still roamed inside many more hearts.

One such example was in the middle of facing his second opponent tonight, the battle exhibiting the war and turmoil being faced by the Lunatic Fringe himself.

Several Wrestlemania matches were history. The Giant's Battle Royale, The Tag Team match, the…...

…Intercontinental Championship Ladder March.

He'd stopped keeping track since then.

Dean Ambrose quietly brooded inside the quiet locker room of the Levi's stadium. Wrestlemania was going on in full force, and he could hear half the roster cheer from the end of the hallway, their sounds resonating through the corridor.

He had lost. And it wasn't a normal loss, no, he'd been defeated. From the moment the Medics ordered him to go backstage and he'd been deemed unable to continue.

Damn Harper.

No, worse….. Fuck Harper.

It was evident he did not share an amicable relationship with the bearded soul. Hell, he was skeptical the guy had a brain and had conveniently thought that the bulldozer would have been the least of his concerns. And yet, 'the least of his concerns' managed to put the small man out of action. Hell, he'd been seeing stars and was quite sure he had suffered from a concussion after looking at the amount of blood that had seeped out of his body.

His spotlight had been stolen.

His face mirrored inactivity, but his eyes shined like two orbs that could suck you in and make you get lost within mazes in deep seas of sheer anguish. His hip hurt, but then again, so did his head and his entire body. Still, what hurt more were the sounds in his skull trying to get out. They were trying to force him into doing something radical.

Something foolish.

Something he would certainly come to regret.

He didn't like it. He felt a tension in the air, and somewhere inside him, he felt worthless. And if you could find the darkest part of his heart, you would discover that it seemed to be reeking of…. insecurity.

He had not been the witness of a good year. Yes, with the shield, he was one of the top show's golden stars last year, but it had gone downhill since Payback.

Seth Rollins betrayed him. He had been cheated.

So it **was **Rollins' moans he had heard when he returned to his room the night of Payback.

Son of a bitch had bitched out to Triple H.

Asshole.

At Summerslam, he almost got his revenge. Except he didn't.

He was put out of action the next day. Damn Kane.

Roman got his redemption with Seth. Roman even won the Royal Rumble where two giants knocked the jean clad guy out and threw him from the ring like a piece of trash.

But Hell in a Cell was supposed to be his moment of redemption. Seth should have paid. He would've broken the guy in half had…

Bray fucking Wyatt not taken it from right under him.

Sorcerer? More like Shit.

This was meant to be his day. His moment. He deserved it.

He had earned it.

Fuck Harper.

Another roar of cheers rung in the corridors. One more step had been taken towards the culmination of Wrestlemania 31. One more person had been defeated, his dreams being mercilessly crushed under the boot of the other.

He thought of picking himself up to congratulate the winners, then promptly decided against it. Nobody had come to show an ounce of concern to him therefore they did not deserve to be placed on high pedestals.

He assumed that Triple H vs Sting had culminated. The vigilante had probably won. He'd heard a loud ovation and assumed there might've been massive interference is the match.

He heard the shuffling feet and looked up to see someone he did not want to see.

Curious, sympathetic, concerned eyes, from the one and only, yours truly, John Cena.

Dean was surprised. He had known that John's match was third from the main event, but did not, in his dreams had predicted that so much time had passed.

Moreover, he had the United States Championship Belt resting over his shoulders.

So much for rubbing salt on his wounds.

"What the hell do you want, **Cena**?" He spat out, his tone jarring like acid.

"So, I take it that your bout did not go well?" He replied, his back towards Dean, amusement shining through his voice.

The Lunatic Fringe simply scoffed. Everyone on the damn roster knew John had a habit of watching all matches before his match. He knew John had witnessed his nasty bump and this was his way of showing concern, spoken in an ever so casual and Cena-like tone, perfect for masking the worry that the big man held for the smaller one.

Ambrose, being Ambrose, decided to play along, "Oh, not at all. It was a walk in the park," he said, dropping bombs of heavy sarcasm.

"So I take it that the bump through the ladder was **not **painful?" _Aw damn,_ Cena immediately thought, _me and my big mouth._

Dean gazed at the back of the mega-star, a wide smirk plastered on his face. _Aha, _he thought, _caught with his hand in the cookie jar._

"It was, but I put on a good show."

"You are a lying son of a bitch."

"Huh?" To say Ambrose was taken aback, was an understatement. John Cena was known to be a man of many words alright, but cuss words seemed to be absent from his dictionary.

John finally turned around. "I said you're a lying son of a bitch, a lying piece of shit and all you say just makes me wonder how stupid you are to think that anyone trusts this bullcrap."

"What the hell are you yapping about, Cena? Say it to my face, don't keep spinning the story around!" Dean was fuming with anger and although he was standing a good 10 feet from the new US Champ, he looked like he was soon going to march up to the other guy and go toe to toe with him if need be.

"You, my dear friend, reek of insecurity." John Cena could tell the comment hit home. Dean Ambrose's expression changed and he looked ready to blow up. He looked ready to make a move and while John Cena fully expected a punch, what Ambrose did truly surprised him.

"Fuck you." The former US champ breathed out and started walking out the door.

"Going to play hide-and-seek, eh Ambrose?" Cena drawled out, making Ambrose halt in his tracks. "You forget one thing…... you can hide from yourself."

"I do not need to hide myself," Dean responded, much alike a petulant child. I have been facing these demons all throughout my life and have conquered all of them, myself. And I am damn well going to kick the next one's ass like the rest of 'em!"

Ambrose was seething. He could see red. Who the hell was John Cena to question him?

"I see you're taking one of the pages from my book with that 'Never Give Up' shtick." Cena said the words with an as-a-matter-of-fact tone, wanting to screw with the other guys brain. Sitting down on the bench the remove his shoes he continued, "You feel nobody can see through your façade, Ambrose. Unfortunately actions do speak louder than words. You know what I think? Again, you may not want to hear it, but in what world do I give a damn as to what you want. I think that you blame your reckless attitude towards these so-called demons and although it is justified to an extent, I just feel you've begun to hide behind them. Stop being a fucking bitch and step-the-fuck-up. You may hate Harper, you may detest him, despise him, but you can't forget, he was the one that has, in his own, demented way, taught you a very important lesson."

"Oh Savior of the Masses, please tell me the lesson too! After all, the sermon won't be complete without that, will it now?"

"Quit being a pussy, step up, and do stop bitching while you are at it."

John had just ended his talk, when he was turned around by an angry Dean Ambrose, who promptly slapped his across his face. Damn. Hard. He tried to slap him again but when he did, his arm was twisted around and his front was pushed against a wall.

John pressed up against him and used his power to lift Dean up, using his throat and back as leverage, making him uncomfortable from lack of oxygen.

"Boy, you do not mess with me, you understand?" Cena growled. The anger in his voice was evident as he bent forward, menacingly whispering into the smaller man's ears. "Realize what I'm about to tell you **very **clearly. You **may** be insecure and **may** be putting up a façade, but I** am** supposedly always putting one up. I look jovial and yes, it takes a lot for me to snap, but you do not want me to snap. You think Randy is conniving? Think his anger issues are bad? Boy, when it comes to me, Randy is just looking in the rear-view mirror."

John then released Dean, who fell on the floor in a heap, his chest heaving, his body thankful for being provided with air. Realizing the other man had learnt his lesson and, somewhere, feeling that he had forgotten the humiliation of defeat to some extent, he walked out.

**Please Review! Please! Pwease! :P :) All criticisms and appreciations are requested!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: Slash**

**Disclaimer: Read Ch:01**

_**One month later…. Night of April 26**__**th**__**.**_

For the first time in a long time, the demons rested. They slept, pleasured by the dreams of forgiveness and peace.

Dean Ambrose no longer felt the previously unquenchable need to kill himself.

It did not matter that he had nearly split his skull a few hours ago.

It did not matter that Dolph Ziggler was (undeservingly) made to kiss Sheamus' white 'arse.'

Best of all, it did not matter that Seth fucking Rollins was still World Champ.

Okay, maybe the last one mattered a little.

But he had just competed in one of the longest pay per view matches. Much of it had been of camera, but who cared. He came out victorious in the end.

He put Luke Harper's shoulders down for a 1-2-3.

And therefore, it was an improvement. An as much as he'd hate to admit it, it was only after having the life choked out of him that his body had he been relieved of the tension.

He sat in his hotel room, ice pack to the head and to the shoulder introspecting everything that had happened in the past year.

He'd become the WWE's longest reigning US champ.

He'd been the reason Seth Rollins became a butt of so many jokes.

Through his many feuds he solidified himself into a main event star.

He'd kicked Rollins ass at Hell in a Cell…. Not too long before Wyatt kicked his, but that's beside the point.

He'd had a memorable, albeit painful, Wrestlemania moment.

On top of it all, he'd won his first pay per view match in ten months.

A smile creeped up on his face. A genuine toothed smile.

And, again, as much as he'd hate to admit it, the reason still came to be John fucking Cena.

Now, he wasn't a guy who'd go the extra mile to show his gratitude. Therefore, thinking a simple 'Thank you' would suffice, he began his long journey to John Cena's room.

After all, Cena had to be in some form of pain. People might have thought that it wasn't such a wonderful match, but a steel chain was a steel chain, and when it hit your body, it would result in excruciating pain. And Dean did not want to bother him too much.

At least, that is what he told himself.

On the way, his mind wandered out to all four corners of the world.

Should he apologize?

No chance in hell.

A simple show of gratitude would be perfect.

But he did slap the other guy, and frankly, he did not need to be on the bad side of any more people.

Suite 1103. Of course the business top dog would have the biggest room.

He raised his hand to knock on it, but then decided against it.

What if Cena was asleep? He'd had a hard match after all.

_Whatever, _Dean thought,_ Cena wouldn't die. If I can stay alive after getting hit by that Kendo stick a few times, Cena can also take a beating._

If not, he simply couldn't bring himself to give a damn.

Before he had the chance to muster up enough courage, the door opened and revealed a freshly showered John Cena, wearing only shorts, water dripping from his torso.

"Lost your way, Senor Ambrose?" he drew the words out, standing against the door.

Ambrose faltered. John Cena, complete along with his washboard abs, stood tall and mighty in front of him.

But he kept the smile on his face. "What is this Cena, your flimsy effort to try and seduce me? Now, now, what would all the kids say when they see their icon like this?"

To say John's next move was unexpected was the understatement of the century. He jutted two of his fingers in Dean's jeans, and yanked the cloth, pulling the other guy flush on his body.

"Mr. Ambrose, I know you are well aware that 'seduction' is something I was never good at. You know why? Because I've always taken what I wanted, and that's a fact."

"So, what now, huh?" Dean couldn't control the hitch in his breath, but tried maintaining his composure and his cocky attitude. John's own musk seemed to drive him crazy. He gulped, before continuing. "I- I just came to express my gratitude and say thank you. I should be going, like now. We- We have a live show to do tomorrow."

"Don't worry about the live show, Ambrose. You have a match against Sheamus, and you're fighting for the title of King of the Ring."

"W- **What?**"

"Yeah, I've already spoken to creative, just like I spoke with them one day after Wrestlemania. If I recall correctly, it was an open challenge. Anybody could have answered it. But you did. Not Rusev, not Sheamus, Not Barrett. I wanted you in the ring with me. I got you in the ring with me."

"You act like you own the place. Might as well go around saying you Vince's bitch."

"Like shit he would, son of a bitch once tried to make a move on me. I kicked his ass, like, literally. That's how you earn respect around here. Step up for yourself. I know you think Seth got all he wanted because he got fucked and got passed around but in reality he doesn't have any. I might have a lot of haters and several more in the locker room, but at the end of the day, they know I am not someone to be messed with. You would know this more that several others! Because of your persona, and lack thereof, you get the same. So, am I right or am I right?"

Dean shakily nodded, amazed that he was going to get another chance at a championship that, in his mind, was stolen wrongly from him.

"Exactly. Now then, what had you come to say again?"

Dean suddenly got nervous. He stared at his feet and did not have a single idea as to what he would do.

"Thank you." Somehow, without knowing it, he managed to mumble the two words out, and all of a sudden that made him feel weak and pathetic, making him cringe with disgust.

"Oh, I don't want your 'Thank you' Ambrose," John said, his voice deep, his eyes holding a sly gaze towards Ambrose, who had subsequently been pulled inside.

Ambrose's head jerked towards the big man "What do want then?" he said sharply, more or less challenging the man. Yes, he might be feeling weak on his knees, but there was no way in hell that it would make him parrot out an apology.

"Oh, I think you know so quit stalling." Cena eyed Ambrose like a hawk, as if he were nothing but a piece of meat.

Ambrose wouldn't stoop so low. His morals did not allow him to do so.

"I'm not apologizing if that's what you think!"

"Dean, Dean, Dean… Who would have ever thought that the Lunatic Fringe, one of the sharpest talkers in the industry today, would turn out to be so incredibly… dumb, and naïve?" John coolly gazed into Ambrose's eyes, seemingly to extinguish the fire contained within them.

Dean was fighting a lost battle. He knew he would eat out of John's palm if the older man asked him too.

And it scared him.

Tentatively, he took two small steps back, wanting to put a bit more distance between them.

"Would you stop jabbering around like a madman and simply tell me what you expect of me! You've been going round and round in circles and I am fed up. So unless you want me here for something actually constructive, I would like to go back to my room." Ambrose blasted. Something told him that he would have to go through another choking session when John approached him, but to his surprise, he bent forward, no contact between their bodies and blew into Ambrose's ear.

You know what I expect you to do. I expect you to get on your fucking knees and take my cock down your throat. Then, I expect you to let me push my dick into that tight, probably virgin hole of yours and then I expect you to let me ravish you. Trust me dear, by the time I'm done with you, I want to make you unable to remember your fucking name."

Dean stood there floored. What the hell had he go himself into?

Yes, John Cena had blissfully uttered expletives throughout the night, but this, this was just another level. John Cena had just bluntly invited him to become his bitch.

And, what shocked Dean was that he was considering it.

John circled Dean once, then went and sat on the back of the room, crossing his legs, perching them on top of the coffee table. "I'm not as shallow as you think I am, Dean. If you think that your conscience won't allow it, or you think I am going to flush your career down the drain and make you job at NXT, or you simply don't want to do it, you don't need too. But, if you step in, you're in. There shall be no exits."

One couldn't begin to describe how torn Dean Ambrose was at the moment. He'd always hated labels and therefore, gay sex itself didn't scare him. The thought scared him. He'd been the victim of a tough life. Could he surrender?

After what seemed like a minute, he simply strolled over to Cena, bent down and delivered a huge bitch slap right across the face.

"I'm not a bitch. You better remember that."

That's when John jerked him into his arms into a rough kiss.

**I haven't updated for so long. I should stop putting dates up. Sorry for the tardiness. I'll be posting the next chapter in EDF soon. SOON. Like, before 7th May. I hope. Finger's crossed. Again, this is to tell you that I haven't forgotten about it.**

**Please review! Pwease! Pwease!**


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm not a bitch. You better remember that."

That's when John jerked him into his arms into a rough kiss.

Oh, and was it heavenly. Pain sluts would be jealous of it. They were practically trying to eat each other's mouth. Their tongues moved against one another so amazingly, and the way the pair of the hands tried to jerk some form of clothing off didn't indicate desperation, no, it was in fact an unquenchable thirst, a lust they couldn't rid themselves off.

Could it be called harmony? Not a chance.

Their lungs were burning, but their pride was having a gala time in preventing them from coming up for air.

It was an 'amicable' separation, as it only happened when Ambrose bit Cena's lip. And stretched it. Hard.

Cena pulled back, using the heel of his palm to test the presence of blood.

He simply raised an eyebrow, an action that would make Dwayne Johnson jealous.

His eyes held a question, and Dean Ambrose's smirk held the answer.

"You've been big manly macho all night, Cena. Don't you dare turn into mush now. Or, was that just an act? Are you all talk? That all you can do? Go yap yap yap? And here I was beginning to think your 'mess with me, I'll rough you up' act was…. somewhat amusing." Dean continued with a wide, satisfied smile on his face, an unmistakable drawl evident in his words. "Are you going soft on me old man? To think of it…. you just turned 38, didn't you?"

Yes, a genuine, naughty, definitely but joyful smile could be surely traced on the Lunatic Fringe's face.

He pulled himself back into the middle of the room before adding another thought.

"You know, I suppose that's all I should have expected from you…" Oh yes, he wanted to tease the other man.

This was happening Dean Ambrose's way or it was not happening at all.

Cena simply got up from the armchair and strutted towards the other man.

He lifted his hand and let it smoothly let it trail down Ambrose's shoulder, whose eyes fluttered shut and head dropped back because of the feeling.

"You made me bleed Mr. Ambrose." John whispered the words right next to his shoulder, his hot breath resulting in striking electricity, evident from the goosebumps present on the smaller man's hand.

"Whatever, I reckon you'll still kick out at 2." Dean scoffed, collecting himself.

It was fascinating how their voices **lacked **animosity despite the seemingly venom filled comments.

You see, lust had its own limits, crossing which could turn the uncontrolled feelings into love. But they seemed to have created this no man's land between the two and realized and fully acknowledged it.

A rare case indeed.

However, Cena, being Cena, decided to speed things up.

He whispered, this time much closer to his cheek, "Well I didn't like it."

Sensing danger, Dean opened his eyes, his face resembling one of a deer caught in headlights. Cena's eyes emerged in front of him, full of… greed, a certain sharpness perceptible in them. His body language begged for control, but, very much like Ambrose, he had a glint of certainty in his eyes.

Going for broke, he harshly grabbed Dean by the throat, looking to squeeze the life out of them.

Dean started thrashing around wildly. He had no idea what John's ideas were, but if they were to asphyxiate him, he were about to succeed.

"You want rough, Ambrose? I will teach you rough. And while the number of sluts you have tried to service might have faked their orgasms, you won't. And at the end of the night, **if** I am…. sated, I may choose to give you yours. And make no mistake, you will be begging for it."

With another tight squeeze to his throat, the big guy easily flung the other on the bed, making him writhe in pain, insanely coughing all over the place.

"Asshole…" was all Dean could muster up the strength to mutter before resuming his coughing fit.

"Oh don't make me gag you Mr. Ambrose, I like having my ego stroked in bed, and you yelling on the top of your voice shall flatter my purpose immensely. But then, your same vague pointless statements are putting a damper on my mood. Shall we begin with a simple exercise? On the floor." John said the order with an extra-assertive tone. Dean carefully slid down the bed in front of John and dropped to his knees, so as to not aggravate any of his injuries sustained earlier.

He then raised his head high rebelliously.

"I like how you play Ambrose." Saying that, he clutched the younger man's hair, making him wince, and then as a statement of command, forcefully kissed him.

This time though, Cena completely dominated Dean, pushing his tongue into the others mouth, with extreme force. Dean tried to turn away, his toes curled, but the broad man harshly held his chin in place, forcing his mouth open.

He pulled back to look into Dean's eyes, towering high over him, hands still at their respective places.

Dean's eyes were fixed upon him. Hard, piercing into his soul.

John Cena's blue orbs immediately doused that fire.

The US champ then stood up straight, and pulled Dean around and onto the bed by his hair, flipping him on his back, his body horizontal to the bed, head hanging by the side. His face flushed and all hot because of the kiss and the looks the other man was giving him.

It was then, and only then, that John faltered. Dean had crossed what many people described as the pinnacle of beauty, just lying in utter surrender, albeit that could be questioned. His brown hair hung loosely due to his upside down position, and his blue-grey eyes lay hidden from the world.

He spoke when his command returned, "Had I known any better, I would've said you were blushing Mr. Ambrose."

Dean just concentrated on his breathing. Blood coursed through his veins and had travelled right to his dick, which was still restricted in his dark blue jeans.

"Get to work, Mr. Ambrose. Or I wouldn't let that little guy get any relief, whatsoever."

"What are we, a couple of Jack-shit office colleagues? My name's Dean." Dean's voice held a cutely defiant tone to it. John, who'd practically felt the roll of the eyes, marveled at the thought that Dean had become a little comfortable in a span of a few short seconds.

Amused, he bent down until his gaze met the upside down man's, "Mr. Ambrose, I'm afraid you have no choice in the matter. However, since you run your mouth so much, how about you give it a break and get started? And no more words. Are we clear? In fact, let me do you a favor," his smirk widened as he continued, "by opening my fly for you. Now get to work."

Dean simply nodded, waves of euphoria enveloping him. Sure, at a distance, the same words may seem cold and emotionless, but to Dean, they held a certain amount of care and… respect.

Respect that he had been given by John Cena in exchange of his willing submission. He just nodded his head trying his best not to lift his hanging head.

John, reading Dean's thoughts, placed a hand under Dean's head, lifting it up. In a calm, caring tone, he said, "I need you to listen to me very carefully Dean. You are not a submissive, and I am not someone who believes in labels. You do seem to follow my orders, but in the end, we both hold equal power over one another. Therefore, I want you to tell me if you feel uneasy at any step, alright?"

"Uh-huh" Dean didn't know why, but his chest swelled in pride at the comment. He even flashed a small smile.

"Now, I am going to receive the honor of receiving that blowjob today?"

Dean nodded yet another time and moved forward to pull the muscled man's boxers down and was immediately blown away. Of course, being a virgin, he'd not seen many cocks, but he was certain John's cock was much bigger than an average sized one. And of course, the open locker room showers left little to imagine about the nether regions of his colleagues.

Slowly, anxiously, he wrapped a hand around the raging hard-on, a hard task to do while inverted, and swiftly licked the angry red head, earning a moan from Cena. He looked up, just to meet John's stare. He went do the same again but the other guy pulled away.

"Tut- tut, Dean. Now, I did promise that it would be rough."

Dean's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something.

Rookie's mistake.

John immediately pummeled his dick inside the small man's mouth. Setting a hard pace, he rested his hands on the other man's chest before he finally hit the back of Dean's throat.

Dean was a first timer, and was anything but prepared for this. The heavy hands on his chest, the intense and methodical abuse to his throat all resulted in sheer ecstasy.

Spit flew down his cheeks, covering John's balls and his dick.

The dirty feeling of John's balls slapping his face, coating it with his saliva was extremely erotic and downright dirty but a far, far cry from demeaning.

John himself was in heaven. He was thoroughly enjoying the feel of his colleague's mouth on his manhood. And when Dean's nose hit his ballsack, it was a whole new feel to him.

He pulled out only to allow Dean to kneel in front of him on the floor, before the dirty blonde made him succumb again.

Taking the head into his mouth, Dean just kept staring up into John's eyes. The cool air made it unbelievably thrilling, along with the unmatched chemistry shared between the two people.

"Oh shit, Dean. You're fucking fantastic at this." John moaned.

This encouraged Dean to take more of John into his mouth, this time by himself and little by little he soon reached half before he started bobbing his head furiously, practically forcing it down his throat.

John just stared into his eyes, and removed the hair from his face so that he could absorb all that was Dean Ambrose.

He gently placed his head on the back of Dean's head, as Ambrose inch by inch, took it down, until his nose touched Cena's skin once again.

"Good boy. That's it. Breathe through your nose. That's it, you can do it." Cena simply gave his 100 megawatt smile and kept stroking Ambrose's hair to relieve him of all the tension.

He couldn't remember the last time he received so much pleasure from such an act.

Hell, he couldn't remember who it was he fought 3 hours ago at Extreme Rules.

"Fuck, Dean, I'm surprised you've never done this before."

All he got was muffled sounds emanating from down below, the vibrations to his cock causing John's head to spin.

"Fuck, c'mere." He grabbed at Ambrose who leaped into his arms, wrapping his legs around the large man, making him step back in recoil, immediately starting to kiss John, who resumed his tongue-fucking.

And boy did his mouth taste good.

Their bodies crashes everywhere, the shelf, armchairs, the door, the walls, the table, the television before both of them fell to the bed, where John's Dog tags came out from behind his T-shirt and rested on Dean's clothed chest.

Cena pulled back and shredded the 'DA' shirt of Ambrose as if it were made of paper, before ripping his off himself.

Dean gripped his dog tags and pulled him back as they resumed kissing.

"You gonna keep these on?"

"You want me to?"

"Hell yeah."

John just smirked and proceeded to get them both rid of all extra clothing.

"Now, I need you to relax." John breathed in Dean's ear, turning him to putty.

He took the lube from the corner table and applied it to his index finger, before putting some on his hole and gently probing it with his finger.

"Oh shit." He cried out as John slowly pushed the first finger in, his actions more or less gentle enough.

But, it still hurt like a bitch.

"Shush." John guided his hand up and down his hip as he pushed his finger in and out of his ass before coating a second with lube, kissing him to divert his mind.

Instead of pushing them in slowly however, he shoved them inside in one go.

"Fuck!" Dean cried out, fisting the pillows, thrashing his head left to right, before attacking Cena's neck in an attempt to muffle his screams.

The vicious biting did not deter Cena, who simply hoisted him again the headboard and started moving his fingers rapidly out of his strong-willed body.

"Want me to take your breath away, Dean?" John whispered in his ear.

"Fuck, do it!"

And as if on cue, Dean whorishly moaned out in sheer pleasure.

"Ah, looks like I found your prostate….." John crooned.

"Son of a…. again! Please!" Dean groaned.

John complied moving his thick fingers in and out, hitting his mate's fuck bundle again and again, their primal yet intense coupling bringing utter joy to both of them.

"Are you ready, Dean? 'Cause my dick is going in right now."

The words were said staring right into the smaller man's aroused and lust-filled eyes.

Dean just gulped and nodded before his tight ass was invaded by John Cena's monster of a dick, aiming for the prostate, expertly hitting it on the first try, 'causing pain and pleasure filled endorphin's to fuzz Dean's brain up.

"Fuck yeah! Move John!" He cried out, desperately wanting more.

"Your wish is my command."

And then he began thrusting in and out. Goddamn, did that feel good.

Dean was completely floored, all the pain hidden beneath deep seas of pleasure, with his body reacted wildly, his hands clutching Cena's muscles as if he were holding on for dear life.

But to say that John hadn't found seventh heaven would have been lying. Buried inside the man, the virgin hole so pure, so tight and the boy's figure and face were providing an all the more alluring sight to him.

This position, above him, shielding him from the world, giving him the respect and the ultimate pleasure of being his first was just surreal.

Dean by now, had been reduced to a withering mess, if he were not so an hour ago, and was on the brink of his release.

The moans and light screams, which had been silenced by biting and kissing only added to the pleasure.

"Oh, I'm going to cum! Please!" Dean moaned, pleading for his erection.

John was pleased. "Cum for me, Dean."

"Oh fuck yeah! I..."He came even before he could finish the sentence, thrashing out wildly, body feeling sated, his cum falling between the bodies, on his and John's abs, the big man finally coming inside him moments later.

None of the two moved, as despite the feeling of exhaustion, another, more pre-dominant feeling came over them.

The first move was made by John, who got up and pulled Dean to the bathroom, pushing him into the shower, before using a warm wet cloth to clean himself.

He stood there, pondering on what this would result in.

Would Dean want this to be a One Night Stand?

Would he want this to evolve into a relationship?

Friends with benefits?

He just didn't know.

Dean came out of the shower shortly, only to find that John had retreated to the room.

Entering the space, he saw a lamp lit by the bed on while Cena watched some random movie on the TV.

That only meant one thing.

John had given him a choice. Fucking Cena always put him in some shit.

"Why are you standing there?" A voice came from the bed.

"Uh…" Dean really didn't know what to say. So he just said the first thing that came to his mind which, considering his mind was filled with a train of thoughts, didn't go to well with the situation.

"I want to be here."

Crap.

The silence was deafening. The symbols on the flooring had never looked so beautiful.

Then, "Alright."

Dean was bewildered by what he'd just heard. His eyes whipped up to see a small dimpled smile on Cena's face.

It wasn't love, but it damn sure wasn't some kind of friends with benefits kinda thing.

Dean, smiling himself, walked to the bed and laid down against Cena, who shut of the TV, surprisingly the only source of light other that the lamp.

Cena simply pulled him closer.

"You do know we'll have to figure this out?" John inquired.

"Tell me when I have to give a fuck." The other man replied.

"You do know we'll probably be the talking point of the entire roster?"

"Again, who the fuck cares?"

"We'll have to tell Hunter, Stephanie, Vince….."

"I think his first name is Triple…"

"What do we call this, Dean?"

"Stop calling me Dean, it's Jon."

"Hey, I'm John. Also I'm older, and on top of it, I'm the top. Ergo facto, you're my bitch. Hence, I'm John."

"Fine, but no calling me Ambrose. Just Dean. And we won't call this friends with benefits. That's idiotic and I ain't calling it premature love, or a relationship."

"We'll figure it out when we figure it out. For now, let it be our no man's land." John said with a smile, shuffling his hand around so Dean's head rested on his chest.

Dean just smiled, looking forward to another day with John Cena.

**Completed. I'm still here, btw. Laptop's done mending. Extra long chapter!**

**Review? Pretty please? Oh and I'm open to any and all requests about threesomes and foursomes including Cena/Ambrose is different settings, in the same universe. Send me the request, and 99%, I'll write it!**

**-O**


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